" What a dear, kind mother 1” thought
Jennie, as she ate her cake. “Mother was
right; it was not love for the soldiers,
but selfishness, that made me so cross
this afternoon, and so angry because I
had to deny myself the lint party. For
though I should be delighted to pick lint
there, I don’t care a straw about doing it
here by myself. And there’s the roll of
Old linen, all the same, up stairs in my
apron pocket. I have a great mind to go
directly up and get it, and pick my share
of the lint. I can give it to Kitty Red
path to-merrow. I’ll do it! Tes, I will!”
TJp stairs ran Jennie, and brought down
her bundle of linen. It was rather slow,
tedious work, doing it in the lonely sitting
room, with no one in all the house hut
Alfred, asleep, and herself, with the clock
keeping up its monotonous tick, tack, tick,
tack, and giving, every now and then, a
I defiant whirr, as it passed the quarter
| hours. Very stupid to strain her eyes
! over the white, fine threads, and lay them,
one at a time, in a straight, smooth pile
! on her; lap, looking from the white work
outside, to the whiter snow that lay all
over the ground, like Gideon’s fleece.
Many a time she was tempted to put it
away, but the thought of the poor soldiers,
marching, with weary feet, over rocky
paths or gloomy woods, fighting and get
ting wounded in those terrible battles in
the South, and lying, day after day, far
from home and kind, loving friends, in the
hospital-tent or the long, low barrack
room, made her keep on. Very bravely
Jennie worked, until the clock struck five.
Then she drew the table out, and set it
for tea, and ran, with fear and trembling,
to the kitchen, to put the kettle on the
fire. It was growing dark, and Jennie
was a timid child, and by no means liked
being alone in the house after sunset. She
knew that her fears were foolish, but, like
many another little girl, she could not
quite get over them. How she wished
that Alfie would wake up, or, better still,
that Horace were at home, and not at
grandmother’s. She thought repentantly
how often she had considered her noisy
brother a great trouble, and how glad she
had been that he was at grandma’s in
stead of at home, in the beginning of the
JENNIE'S DISAPPOINTMENT. | afternoon.
Jfamilg f-teiJ.
lIiLUSTBATIONS OF THE SHOBTER
OATEOHISM.
KO. VI.
GOD UNCHANGEABLE,
Change darkens all; we walk 'mid graves;
Eartb heaves and sinks like ocean waves;
The mountain peaks are scarred by time;
Prond domes decay;
The sun shall stop his course sublime,
And pass away.
Rejoice that He is by thy side
In, whom th’ eternities abide.
1 Oh His bright, awful, glorious brow,
' r ' Age writes no stains;
The Noon of Day, the unchanging Now,
He still remains.
Rebellion cannot shake His throne!
As wildest tempest, rushing on,
But higher lifts the ocean's flow
In might abroad,
So hell’s worst storms but brighter show
The might of God.
IV.
'When demon-kings ’gainst Him have striven,
He laughs, this God who sits in heaven —
He needs not rise to crash their deeds,
A laugh, a frown,
Are all this calm Jehovah needs
To crush them down.
Haste, when the work is dying man’s!
No hurry in God’s awful plans;
Terrific patience, that gives scope
To acts impnre!
The oppressor’s doom, the lowly’s hope
Are thrice secure!
In these long eras who can trace
What darkening changes may have place,
Even in the bowers that bloom above?
No! God’s the same ;
Dread no eclipse! for Changeless Love
Is still His name.
Changeless Inertness? —No ! but Power
That rays forth worlds with every hour;
Like the calm mountain range that throws
In brightening thrill
A hundred rivers from its snows
So pure and still 1
BY M. E. M.
[CONTINUED.]
Somehow, when Jennie and Alfred went
back into the room, the interest had gone
from the blocks, and it seemed to have
grown ever so much darker. In spite of
herself, Jennie’s thoughts would fly to the
merry group in Kittie’s parlor,_oaly three,
squares off, and then that magic lantern!
It bad been her wish, for six months, to
see a magic lantern, and it seemed so-ua
/ortunate to lose guob a splendid opportu
nity. Over and over again, she wished
that the girls ha d Oftme, \g oversow
her resolution when it was most firm,;
“ Dennie,” said Alfred, "me hundry.”
"Well, dear, you shall have your farina—
and go to sleep. Wait till sister gets it
cut of the closet.”
After Alfie had been fed, he wanted to
ait on his sister’s lap. So she drew up
her mother’s low rocking chair near the
lounge, that Bhe might lay him down
easily and safely when he should sleep;
and, hugging his little head to her breast,
began to sing, soft lullaby songs, in a croo
ning, coaxing way, till the little restless
hands dropped down on his breast, and
the violet eyes shut softly—softly—till
the long, fair lashes swept the pink cheeks,
and the breath came gently through the
parted lips. \
. "Fast asleep.’’said Jennie. “Now, if
I Can only lay you down without waking
you, how nice it will be.”
Nice, indeed I Jennie’s arms were not
SO strong as her mother’s, and a sleeping
«6hild is very heavy She was just about
to lay him down when his lips moved in
a little fretful way—his eyes opened, and
her work had to be done over again.
How provoking I Jennie felt as if she
eonld have shaken the child, but she kept
flown the impatient spirit, and resolutely
began again. Happily he soon fell asleep;
»nd Jennie, to be quite sure of him, sang
four songs through, after his slumbers had
begun, before she put him down.
“How I’ll arrange mother’s desk,”
thought Jennie, “ and afterwards study my
lessons for to-morrow. Poor little Henry;
I hope he isn’t so badly hurt after all.
I'll know when mother comes home.”
A pleasant surprise awaited Jennie
■when she opened the desk. It did not re
quire much arrangement; and Mrs. Mar
tin had only directed Jennie to it as a
“.ruse ” to cover her real design.
There, in a paper parcel, directed to
Jennie Martin, was a large slice of Mrs.
Martin’? plum cake, which was kept in a
yrge Btone jar in the pantry, np stairs,
gth the preserves, and never brought
)rth except on special occasions. It was
«h with fruit, and beautifully iced and
osted; and Jennie saw at once that her
mother had wished to give her a treat,
and had taken this way of doing it—put
ting the cake in her desk while she had
absent from the room.
Tick, tack, tick went the clock, and the
curtain of twilight settled down on the
world. Peeping out from the window,
Jennie saw nothing but the cloudy, leaden
sky and the pure, white earth, with people
hurrying to and fro on the dimly lighted
street. She drew down the shades, struck
a match, and, standing on a chair, just
managed to reach the gas burner in -tho
centre of tie room. The flare, of light
disturbed little Alfred, and he sat up on
"the” lounge, rubbing his eyes and calling
for sister to take him up. Nothing could
have delighted Jennie more just then;
and. lifting hep little brother, she drew his
high chair to the table andestablishuft hijQ
in it, with two or thl’ee pl&ythifigs, before
him. Then teking her basket again, she
began earnestly to work at it—and was
pleased to see the square pieces of linen
gradually disappear, and soft, smooth bun
dles of snowy lint taking, their places.
She worked so busily that she quite for
got her loneliness, and found herself sing
ing, as merrily as a cricket, one sweet
Sunday-school melody after another; and,
just as her clear, mellow voice wa£ singing
out loudest—
“ Jesus loves me; this I know,
Eor the Bible tells me so.
Little ones to him belong—
They are weak, but he is strong. .
Yes, Jesus loves me! yes, Jesus loves me!
she heard a shuffling on the steps as of
some one brushing away the snow, and
then a loud ring at the door.
Jennie was half afraid to open it. It
was too soon for her mother, and she knew
that her father would go to Aunt Emma’s
to see how Henry was, and accompany
her mother home. Horace was at his
grandma’s, and not coming home until to
morrow.
All the foolish stories Jennie had ever
heard of burglars and their deeds rushed
into her mind. Who knew that this in
truder was not a robber, who had taken
advantage of her being all alone to get
into the house ? Jennie raised the curtain
and took a timid peep out, and saw, not
much to her satisfaction, a great, tall man
standing on the step, and knocking the
snow from his feet.
The ring was repeated—this time a
long, loud ring, that said plainly, “ Make
haste and open the door. Don’t keep me
standing here, all night, in the cold.”
Murmuring a little prayer—“ Oh ! our
Father in heaven protect poor Jennie and
Alfie ” —Jennie opened the room door,
went cautiously through the passage, and
undid the latch on the hall door. Open
ing it first the least hit, that she might
shut it, if necessary, she said—
“ Who’s there ?”
" Who’s there ?” This is pretty hospl
tality 1”
[to be continued.]
There’s always morning somewhere in
the world.
PHILADELPHIA, THURSDAY, JANUARY 1864.
LILLIE’S PRAYER AND CONSOLATION.
Lillie R. A is the youngest daugh
ter of pious parents, and a member of one
of the Sabbath-schools in this city. Two
weeks ago her dear, Christian mother was
brought suddenly to a bed of sickness, and
as was feared almost from the ■ first, to a
bed of death. An affectionate husband,
numerous children and kind friends watch
ed by her bedside night and day. All
seemed anxious, but none more so than
little Lillie. Quietly taking her seat by a
table, a few days after the commencement
of her mother’s sickness, this child of
eleven years, wrote upon her slate the'fol
lowing, which we will call ‘‘Lillie’s
prayer.”
“0, God ! please may mamma get well,
once more to be with us, once more to be
with us at worship every morning. O,
God I it would please us very much to
have her once more in our family, 0, God !
hear my prayer and answer it, for Christ’s'
sake. Amen. Lillie R. A .
“ God- is good and great.”
How sweet it is to hear the children
sing of Jesus. How sweet it is to hear
them pray to Jesus. But how much
sweeter is it, to find one of such tender
years as Lillie, retiring from her own sor
rowful family group for a season, and un
observed, penciling upon her slate, such
sweet expressions of a child’s love for its
parent, and such sweet expressions of
faith in Christ. God in his wisdom how
ever, was pleased to call that sick mother
to himself, and she went to"sleep in Jesus
on last Christmas morning/ L stood by
her bed-side when she passed away, and
with the family, I felt that what was our
loss was her gain. Lillie wept‘for a sea
son bitterly. Shdj|realize(l that she had
lost her mother. But after a time, she'
again went to a table, and unobserved,
upon a small piece of paper, wrote the
following, which we will call "Lillie’s
consolation in sorrow.”
“My mother is now dead. Sweet mo
ther ! Sweet mother ! Ah I she died in
Christ Jesus; that dear mother will never
speak again. Dead! dead! Her spirit has
fled to that mansion above, where the
angels will forever sing glory! glory!
glory! No sorrowing there, no pain, no”
sickness there, nothing but happiness
there; no night, nothing but prayer and
singing. Never go to bed,: never get tired,
because the shine of the light keeps them
awake. Oh! but to think, that she is
happy, and sitting at the right hand of
our dear Saviour. Lilt,if. R,. A—
Uncorrected, unadorned ■pi giygij&s
innocent of'ji chfhffe conSefa
ta Sorrow. It was Christmas, and thdu
sands of children were around their
Christmas trees, and in the smiles of their
friends, but this little Lillie in the house
of mourning rejoiced in the sweet abiding
promises of the Gospel. How pleasant
for a Pastor to testify concerning these
things. J. Y. M.
YOUTH, MANHOOD, AGE
In youth the mind goes irresistibly to
ward the future, living faster than the
flight of time, peopling the coming years
with creations of fancy and hope. In
manhood the current of feeling and of
thought eddies along the shore that sepa
rates the past from the future, yielding
sometimes to the momentum that youth
has given it, going onward in its wonted
way, then thrown aside, and pressed back
towards its source. But when we cross
the limits of middle age, the visions of the
future fade, or are mellowed into -soberr
ness, and we turn to the past, like children
to their mother, when their little inven
tions fail to give them happiness. Like
the rivulet, rushing impetuous- down the
mountain-side, our fresh life goes in
light and gladness. Our middle age flows
like the majestic stream, ever pressing to
ward the sea, yet winding through the
broad lands, and sometimes turning back
in its wide curves toward the hills that
supply its waters. But like the deep
river, where its floods mingle with the
sea, its general motion hardly perceptible,
while daily the ocean-tide drives its
mighty fulness back over its oft traversed
bed—the full soul of age is refluent
pressed back on its former life by its near
ness to the “ great hereafter.”
Some whose eyes rest on these words
have already gone through joyotis youth,
and the middle age of life, and touched the
period of mental refluence, in which: the
past calls us, and the future presses thonght
back again on the paths already trod, in
which,
“ The loved and lost arise to view,
Bemembered groves which greenly grew,
Bathed still in childhood’s morning dew,
Along whose bowers of beauty sweep
Whatever memories mourners weep,
Sweet faces which the charnels keep,
Young, gentle eyes so long asleep!”
Age has this advantege, that its life on
earth is manifold. In youth it lived a
future life by hope and imagination; in
manhood it had the past and the
future, and in its evening it lives youth
and manhood over again by memory,
while in each separate Btage, it possesses
1 the jpresenL But there is a future in
which youth and age are one. In heaven
are no sad memories. The current of
life is ever full, joyous, onward, without
fluctuation, without end.
Rev. E. E. Adams.
THE HELMET OP SALTATION.
“A helmet?” said Julia looking up,
“What is a helmet?”
“ The warriors of old time,” said Mr.
Rhys, “used to wear a helmet to protect
their heads from.danger. It was a cover
ing of leather and steel. With this head
piece on, they felt safe; where their lives
would not have been worth a penny
without it.”
“But Eleanor—what does Eleanor want
of a helmet?” said Julia. And she
went off into a shout of ringing laughter.
“Perhaps you want one,” said Mr.
Rhys composedly.
“No, I. don’t. What should I want it
for? What should I.cover my head with
leather and steel for, Mr. Rhys?”
“You want something stronger than
that.”
“Something stronger? What do I
want, Mr. Rhys?”
• “To know that, you must find out first
whatthe danger is.”
. " I am not in any danger.”
“ How do you know that ?”
“ Am I, Mr. Rhys ?”
“Let us see. Do you know whatthe
Lord Jesus Christ has done for us all ?”
"No.”
“ Do you know whether God has given
us any commandments?”
" Yes; I know the ten commandments.
I have learned them once, but I don’t re
member them.”
" Have you obeyed them ?”
“ Me.”
“Yes. You.”
" I never thought about it. ”
“ Have you disobeyed them then ? h
Eleanor breathed more freely, and lis
tened. It was curious to her to see the
wayward, giddy child stand and look into
the eyes of her questioner as if fascinated.
The ordinary answer from Julia would
have been a toss and a fling. Now she
stood and said Sedately, “ I don’t know.”
"We can soon tell,” said her friend.
“ One of the commandments is, to remem
ber the Sabbath day to keep it holy.
Have you always done that ?”
“No,” said Julia bluntly. “I don’t
think anybody else does.”
“Never mind anybody else. Have
you always honored the word and wish of
your father and mother ? That is another
command.”
" I have done it more than Alfred has.”
" Let Alfred alone. Have you always
done it ?”
“No, sir.”
“ Have you loved the good God all your
life, with all your heart ?”
“No.”
“You have loved to please yourself,
rather than anything el3e ?”
The nod with which Julia answered
this, if not polite, was at least significant,
accompanied with an emphatic “Always 1”
Mr. Rhysgcpuld not help smiling at her,
■but he went on gravely enough.
" What is to keep you then from being
afraid ?”
"From being afraid ?”
" Yes. You want a helmet”
"Afraid ?” said Julia.
“Yes. Afraid of the justice of God.
He never lets a sin go unpunished. He
is perfectly just”
" But I can’t help it,” said Julia.
“Then what is to become of you?
Yon need a helmet.”
“A helmet ?” said Julia again. “What
sort of a helmet ?”
“ You want to know that God has for
given you; that he is not angry with you ;
that he loves you, and has made you his
child.”
“ How can I ?” said the child, pressing
closer to the speaker where he sat on the
step of the door. And no wonder, for
the words were given with a sweet, ear
nest utterance which drew the hearts of
both hearers. He went on without look
ing at Eleanor; or without seeming to
look that way.
“ How can you what?”
" How can-1 have that ?”
“That helmet-? There is only one
way.”'"
‘ ‘ What is it, Mr.' Rhys ? ”
They were silent a minute, looking at
each other, the man and the child; the
child with her eyes bent on his.
" Suppose somebody had taken your
punishment for you ? borne the displeasure
of God for your sins ?”
“ Who would ?” said Julia. “ Nobody
would.”
“One has.”
“ Who, Mr. Rhys ?”
“ One that loved you, and that loved all
of us, well enough to pay the price of
saving nsJ’
“ What price did he pay ?”
“ His own life. He gave it up cruelly
—that ours might be redeemed.”
“What for,. Mr. Rhys? what made
him ?”
“ Because he loved us. There was n
other reason.”
"Then people will be saved”—said
“ Every one who will take the condio
tions. It depends upon that. There are
conditions.”
" What conditions, Mr. Rhys ?”
“Do you know who did this for you
" No.”
“It is the Lord himself—the Lord
Jesus Christ—the Lord of glory. He
thought it not robbery to be equal with
God; but he made himself of no reputa
tion, and took upon him the form of a ser
vant, and was made in the likeness of
men; and being found in fashion as a
man, he humbled himself and became
obedient unto death—even the death of
the cross. So now he is exalted a Prince
and a Saviour—able to save all who will
accept his conditions.”
“ What are the conditions, Mr. Rhys ?”
" You must be his servant. And you
must trust all your little heart and life to
him.”
" I must be his servant ?” said Julia.
“Yes, heart and soul, to obey him.
And you must trust him to forgive you
and save you for his blood’s sake.”
Doubtless there had been something m
the speaker himself that had held the
child’s attention so fast all this while.
Her eyes had never wandered from his
face; she had stood in docile wise, look
ing at him and answering his questions
and listening, won by the commentary she
read in his face on what her friend was
saying. A strange light kindled in it. as
he spoke; there were lines of affection
and tenderness that came in the play of
lips and eyes; and when he named his
Master, there had shined in his face as it
were the reflection of the glory he alluded
to. Julia’s eyes were not the only ones
that had been held; though it was only
Julia’s tongue that said anything in reply.
Standing now and looking still into the
face she had been reading, her words were
att unconscious rendering of what she
found there.
“Mr. Rhys, I think:he was very good.”
The water filled, those clear eyes at
that,' but he only returned the child’s gaze
and said nothing.
“I will take the conditions, Mr.’ Rhys,”
Julia went on.
" The Lord make. it so 1” he said
gravely. —The Old Helmet.
“JOT OVER ONE.”
The sharp, quick sound of a crier’s
bell was heard above the rattle of carriages
and the hum of multitudes hastening
home as night came on, and the words
“Child lost I child lost!” fell upon the
ears, and sent a thrill of pain to the hearts
of fathers and mothers, as the crier passed
up the street to the next corner, where he
stopped to give a description of the wan
derer.
How many held their breath and
istened.
“ Child lost 1 child lost! A little girl
—not quite three years of age—her hair
light and curly —eyes blue; when she left
home she was dressed in a scarlet frock
and white apron; has been missing four
hours!” And again the bell was heard
as the crier went on, proclaiming as he
went the same mournful story.
And where, all this time, was little Lily
Ashton ? Soon after she left her father’s
door she made the acquaintance of other
children in the street, with whom she
played awhile, and then many things
amused her as she ran along on the
crowded sidewalk, unnoticed by the busy
throng; but at length she discovered that
her home was no longer in sight, and
that no dear papa or mamma answered
her call; and the poor little lost one sat
down on a door-step and wept bitterly.
A kind-hearted gentleman came that way
—one who loved children, and who was
never happier than when they smiled on
him from their bright faces, which they
could hardly help doing when he smiled
so pleasantly on them, aifd who was
always ready to speak comforting words
when they were in trouble. “ What’s the
matter little Blossom ?” he asked.
His voice was so full of love that Lily
stopped crying, and brushing back her
curls, looked up to see who it was that
spoke to .her. The light from a street
lamp above her shone full upon his bene
volent face. “ I isn’t ‘ little Blossom;’ I
is Lily, and I want mamma,” she said;
and the tears began to flow again.
"But Lily won’t , cry any more,' be
cause we will go and find mamma. Will
Lily go with me ?”
Her tears ceased flowing, and she look
ed up into the kind face once more. “Has
you got a little giri, and is she ‘little
Blossom V ”
“No, my dear; I have no Lily nor
Blossom; only when I find one such as
you; but I love little girls and boys, and
I don’t like to see you cry. Will you go
with me to find your mamma ?”
Lily stood up and put her hand in his,
for her heart was won.
The kind gentleman lifted the tired little
girl in his aims, and carried her to the
nearest police station, where he knew he
would learn what she could not tell him
about her home. And in a short time he
placed the lost darling in the arms of her
mother, whose anguish was thus turned
into joy. He found other children—bro
thers and sisters—-in that home; and the
parents and children gathered around
Lily, lost an hour before, but now found;
and as they laughed and wept by turns,
he felt that he was receiving a richer re
ward in seeing their happiness—their joy
over one dear child-—than thanks, how
ever earnest, could be.
I know you do not wonder that this
family were so glad to see Lily again.
Bat their gladness reminds me—perhaps
it has reminded you also—of some of the
words of Jesus: “ Joy shall be in heaven
over one sinner that repenteth.” Can
you tell why the happy family of the re
deemed in heaven aTe joyful when a sin
ner repents ? A sinner, you know, is one
who is disobeying God; who does not
love or trust in Christ; who is lost in the
world, and who will never find the way
to that beautiful home above, unless he
repents. Do you not think that if you
were in heaven, and could hear that some
one on earth, who had been wicked, had
Tepented and begun to love Jesus, and
was coming to be in heaven too—happy
and holy forever—you would be glad ?
Perhaps some dear friends of yours are
there now, and they are hoping to hear
thatyou are in the way to the same home,
if you are not already in it. Dear child,
have you begun to walk in that path
which leads to the “beautiful city built
above ?” Come with the children of God;
and there will be joy in heaven over you
far beyond that which was felt in Lily’s
family when she was found. One is there
who loves you far more than any friend
on earth can love, and he will receive you
gladly into the number of the blessed.—
Uncle Paul’s Stories.
We live in deeds, not. years; in thoughts, not
breaths,
In feelings, not in figures on a dial.
We should count time by heart-throbs. He
most lives
Who thinks most, feels the noblest, actß the
best
And he whose heart beats quickest lives the
longest.
life is but means unto an end; that end
Beginning, means and end to all things—God,
jprtttisemeuts. 1
SILVER PLATED WARE
SAMUEL SMYTH,
1336 Chestnut Street, opposite U. S. Mir.:,
Manufacturer of Silver Plated Ware, viz.: T., J
Sets, Castors, Ice Pitchers, Cake Baskets, ’:. ' 01 "
ter Dishes, Waiters, Spoons and Forks, Ac. 7,41
Old Ware Repaired and Keplated to give
tire satisfaction. . , ~ vi.
Orders for Ware or Plating to the
will receive Prompt attention. lgy
All Plating warrantep, done according ;o
Entrance to Plating Rooms on Sansom be’., ,
Broad Streets. - • • ’
: —— ' K<
Family Boarding School, ian
FOR YOUNG MEN AND ROY: uo
At Pottstoum, Montgomery County, Pen ; ‘hfl:
THIS School was established Eleven ,-ye-lev.
since, by the Rev. M. Meigs, formehe!
President of Delaware College; ■ _
The. course of stody is extensive, thoroT,
and practical; including the. usual preparati T®
for Colleges, and the various branches onron
substantial English Business education. T;>|gk,
studies of pupils will be conformed to thi-gj#
future vocation, so far as it_ may beactuAj®
determined, or reasonably anticipated. )wl
The Principal gives his undivided
attention to the School, and is aided by exp
rienced assistants, in all the departments. .
The ensuing Summer Session will comment
on Wednesday, May 6th, and continue TweVfj
one weeks. Circulars, containing referenq-- A
names of patrons, and foil particulars, wiilf;-
sent by mail, on application to the Prineitk rC
KEV. M. MEIGS, A.M. ft
Pottstown, April 2d, 1862. ap-3 ly
The West Chester Academy, axu gj
Military Institute, &
AT WEST CHESTER, PENNA. *
WILLIAM F. WYERS, A. M., Principal, §
Assisted by eight gentlemen of tried ability
and experience. ,
Boys and Young Men thoroughly prepared for ®
Business or College. French, German and 4
Spanish taught by native resident Teachers, whc r
have no connection with any other School.
MILITARY DEPARTMENT.
Major Gustavus Eckendorff, Military In- f
structor. 1
Captain J. F. de Maziere, Military Superin• <
tendent. '
Mr. Lewis, Instructor in Gymnastics.
The Summer Term, of Five months, com- 1
mences on May 4th. Catalogues may be had at ‘
the office of this paper, or hy addressing the i
Principal at West Chester, Penna.
Catalogues also at Messrs. Cowell & Son’s,
store, corner of 7th and Chestnut Sts., Phila.
ap3 ly
SELECT, CLASSICAL AND ENGLISH SCHOOL,
No. 1230 Locust Street, Phila.,
B. KENDALL, A. M., Principal.
The school year is divided into two sessions
of five months each, commencing September
and February.
Pupils are carefully prepared for any class in
college or for mercantile life.
Thoroughness in the rudiments is insisted
upon as indispensable to the successful prose
cution of classical and higher English studies.
Special attention is also given to the Modem.
Languages.
. A fine play-ground on the premises gives un
usual., value and attractiveness to the location
of the-school.
All dther desirable information will be fur
nished to those interested on application to the
Principal.
•viHJiaaniHd
‘xaaais lUJiisaHO essi 'on
‘•a* ‘saooo XDXYA
'aiTa aaiiis ‘luianaf ‘sshoxvm
‘avaffltoxaa - a ‘ja.
‘IMS3HJ SYKJLSIBH3
N. E. Corner of Tenth and Chestnut Streets,.
Philadelphia, under the management of
L. FAIRBANKS, A. M.,
for the last four years Principal and chief bu -
siness manager of Bryant & Stratton’s Commer
cial College.
A MODEL "BUSINESS COLLEGE,
conducted on a new system of actual Business -
Training, through the establishment of legiti- -
mate offices and counting-houses, representing t
different departments of Trade and Commerce,
and a regular Bank of Deposit and Issue, giviDg,
the Student all the advantages of actual prac
tice, and qualifying him in the shortest possi-■
hie time and most effective manner for the va
rious duties and employments of business life.
The success of this Institution is unprecie
dented in the history of Commercial Scnocdg.
Its patronage already equals that of the oldeflfc
Institutions in the city, and is rapidly increasing.
Course of Instruction unsurpassed, and may be ■
accomplished in one-half the time usually spent
in other Institutions, in consequence of an en
tirely new management, and the adoption of the -
new_ practical system. Send for a Circular.
Business men invited to call.
Extensive Clothing House, Nos. 303 ant
305 Chestnut Street.
Extensive Clothing House, Nos. 303 * 305
Chestnut Street.
Extensive Clothing House, Nos. 303 & 305
Chestnut Street.
Bargains in Clothing.
Bargains in Clothing.
Bargains in Clothing.
Fine Black Snits. Fine Business Suits.
Fine Black Snits. Fine Business Suits.
Fine Black Suits. Fine Business Suits.
Fall and Winter Overcoats.
Fall and Winter Overcoats,
Fall and Winter Overcoats.
.A t the Lowest Prices. At the Lowest Prices.
At the Lowest Prices. At the Lowest Prices.
At the Lowest Prices. At the Lowest Prices.
Nos. 303 and 305 Chestnut Street.
Nos. 303 and 305 Chestnut Street
Nos. 303 and 305 Chestnut Street, ly
PHILBBOOK A CO.,
manufacturers of
SPRING BEDS,
Mattresses, Feather Beds, and Bedsteads, ' *
Carpet Sweepers, and Clothes Bars,
Dec. 6—2 m No. 9 South Seventh Sti
NOTICE.
SMOKY CHIMNEYS CURED and war
ranted for six dollars. Apply to FRANCIS
FALLS, 539 RACK Btreet. ft*